Camp always felt different at night — the warm lanterns glowing along the cabins, the wind sliding through the trees like it carried secrets from Olympus.

You stood at the edge of the forest, watching the treetops sway. The breeze tugged at your clothes like it knew you by name, like it recognized something in you that the rest of the world kept missing.

People came and went in this place. Quests. Prophecies. Disasters. Triumphs. But you? You felt like someone caught in the middle — pushed forward, pulled back, never quite in control of which way your life tilted next.

Grover was anxious, stumbling over questions, adjusting his fake shoes when Chiron lifted a hand for him to look. You sat near the top of Half-Blood Hill, wind brushing across your shoulders like an old friend greeting you. Chiron exhaled.

“You see them? Some demigods follow destiny. Others… destiny follows them.”

Grover swallowed. He wasn’t sure what that meant yet — but the wind around you seemed to.